the kids don't stand a chance
by shell games
Summary: Three boys, three girls, two schools, and one semester-long exchange of letters: "Are you seeing the absolute catastrophe waiting to happen?" Hiatus.
1. exposition

**To:** William Block  
**From:** Massie Block  
**Subject:** FWD: Message to all students

_This is Mr. Miller, your English teacher! I would just like to announce that participation in our Letters to Briarwood project is MANDATORY! Participation in this project counts for FIFTY PERCENT OF YOUR SEMESTER GRADE! That is more than your final!_

_I know you guys think that Briarwood is "scary" and that they tend to have more arrests, piercings and students on the wellfare program than us, but this is a chance to DIVERSIFY! I have held this project for over five years now, and the results have always been amazing! So please, give Letters to Briarwood a chance! You will make friends, and realize that Briarwood is just like you! Most importantly, you will learn how to write letters, a dying art! This is a fun, fun project, and I will not drop it, so please, stop sending me e-mails and spiking my coffee!_

_(If you do not participate, you will most definitely fail this class.)_

_- Mr. Miller_

Daddy! Are you seeing this atrocity? They are making us write to Briarwood, you know, that school that you always told me to stay away from? The school with the chain-link fence? The school with the principal who was an ex-convict? I can't write letters to _them_.

In case you're not understanding, I will create a vision for you. So, I write a letter to Briarwood. Mr. Miller makes me put my ADDRESS and FULL NAME on the envelope. Briarwood Boy asks me to meet him. I say, "Hell no." He tracks me down and rapes me, or even worse, steals my car. Are you seeing the absolute catastrophe waiting to happen?

Please stop this madness. I will e-mail you the list of "penpals" we're getting; can you run a background check on all of them?

Much love,  
Massie (:

PS. How's Europe?


	2. first impressions: claire and derrick

Dear Briarwood Kid,

Since Mr. Miller wants this to be all "fun", he's making our "penpal" a surprise, so I don't know your name, and can't address this letter properly, thus defeating the purpose of this project. Do you mind if I call you Briarwood Kid? I hope not, especially since it's too late so you'll just have to deal with it anyway.

I'm Claire. I'm not giving you my last name, because I've heard some pretty...shitty things about your school, so I'm going to make locating me as hard as possible. As you can see, the return address for this letter is Octavian Country Day - my school, in case you didn't know.

I think what we should do, Briarwood Kid, is to use this whole penpal thing to the fullest extent. I heard Briarwood has a meth lab instead of a science lab; if this is the case, what you do is send a little crystal my way, and I'll sell it to the kids at my school for a marked up price - they won't mind, I'm sure you've heard about how well-off most of the students at my school are - and I'll cut you a bit of the profit and send it back. Then, you send me some more, I'll sell it for more, and we'll make more. We can start a bit of drug trafficking so you can pay for a bribe into a community college and I can buy some new clothes or something. You see? I'm not one of those girls who are freaked by you guys. I totally embrace your lifestyle.

Of course, eventually, the science teacher would notice the large disappearance of meth from your lab, so then you'll have to go out to your football field and get some of the weed growing there - I hear it's the best in the greater New York area. If this is true, maybe we should start selling the marijuana first so we can get a reputation as high-quality sellers.

Hey, whatever's cool with you, Briarwood Kid.

Tell me what you think of this plan.

x,  
Claire

* * *

**Hey Claire,**

This is probably an inappropriate question to ask - especially with the letter you just sent me - but are you high?

You're really weird, you know that? I'm not quite sure if you're joking or being serious or what. Where did you hear that we had a meth lab instead of a science lab? I'd quite like to know. But just for future reference, no, there are no methamphetamines in our science lab. Nor is our football field made out of kif. But I could probably still get some for you, if you really wanted it.

I'm Derrick. Derrick Harrington.

I feel insulted that you automatically assume I'd be going to community college. Great job, Claire, you just insulted a "Briarwood Kid" - I think our reputation, which you rely so heavily on, should be making you scared right now. I could own a kitchen knife, Claire. I could in a gang.

(I'm not, by the way. I'm on the soccer team, though.)

I'm not sure what else to say; I'm still trying to figure which parts of your letter are true and which aren't. Do you really embrace my lifestyle? (What is this lifestyle, by the way?) Is your name even Claire? Either way, it was nice to meet you...get a letter from you.

**Derrick**

P.S. Out of curiosity, how do you get to school? I'm making a bet with my friend. Do you drive in a Mercedes convertible that your Daddy bought you for your birthday, or do you ride in your Daddy's company limo?

* * *

a/n: so, i think this is the _most similar_ it's going to get to "year of secret assignments". this chapter, i mean. yeah. afterwards it's different - i swear! i think you'll enjoy the next chapter, though, especially you mosh fans [:

i have a question for you guys: to be honest, i haven't chosen the third boy/girl yet. who do you want them to be? (they're not necessarily getting a romance. in fact, i'm still fleshing this story out, so, anything can happen) yeah, tell me in review. and obviously, don't say massie, josh, claire, or derrick [:


	3. first impressions: massie and josh

_Briarwood Student,_

I do not like you.

_Sincerely,_  
_Massie Block (:_

* * *

**Massie** -

You just don't know me yet, babe.

**Josh**


	4. first impressions: kristen and kemp

YOUR REVIEWS HAVE BEEN AMAZING :D

* * *

_Hello, Briarwood Penpal,_

My name is Kristen Gregory :D

I guess I'm your penpal for this English project! I'm really excited for this project, are you? It's going to be so much fun! :D So what's your name? What are your hobbies? How old are you? I would love to know!

Mr. Miller is writing prompts down on the board for us to use, and he says to tell our penpal what we like. Well, okay! As I mentioned, my name is Kristen Gregory! They always call me just Kristen, though, because using last names is kinda unnecessary. :D But never Kris or Kristy, okay? Because I hate those nicknames! :D It's okay, though, I'm generally not a hateful person. Haha!

Anyway, I absolutely LOVE three things: Soccer, baking, and MY FRIENDS!

Why is "My Friends" all in caps, you may ask? Well, let me explain. I LOVE LOVE LOVE my friends! They are so fun to be around! Do you want to know their names? Okay! Let's get down to business!

I have two BFW (Best Friends in the World!). Their names are Massie Block and Claire Lyons (yes, THAT Claire Lyons - but just wait!) Massie is awesome! She's knows EVERYONE! And her clothes are soo nice! We go shopping every week, and it's always so much fun! :D

Now, moving on to Claire Lyons: Yes, I know, I am friends with CLAIRE LYONS. Crazy, right? Yeah! But I've been neighbors with her since...a looong time ago, before she was even in any movies! So that's how we're friends! :D Sometimes I'm scared the paparazzi or her manager will come to the school, but they never do! I guess that's a good thing. She's very funny, I always have a good laugh when I'm around her. :)

Another thing I love is soccer! It's a lot of fun. I'm on the girl's soccer team at my school, and I love it! Just running around in a field, scoring a goal, all these make me think that I can fly! (Well, not really, obviously, but I feel really happy when I play soccer!)

Finally, I love baking. Just creating something so yummy is a lot of fun to me, I guess! Maybe one day I will mail you some of my cookies or a brownie or something! :D Claire says my cake is better than kissing Connor Foley! Hahaha, I don't think she wanted me to put that down into my letter. Oh well! See, I told you she was funny!

Well, I guess that's all I have to say for now! I can't wait for your reply! :D

_Peace, love, and cookies,_  
_Kristen Gregory :D_

* * *

**Kris,**

Long time no talk, Gregory. How are you?

**Later,  
Kemp Hurley**

**

* * *

**a/n: so in case you didn't get it, kemp and kristen know each other. :]


	5. intermission i

Dear Diary,

You arrived in the mail today, all wrapped nice and pretty with a note from Judi saying, _Kid stars break easily, honey. This is to ensure that you don't end up like LiLo_. And I laughed hen I read it, because Judi's always worried about me going insane.

I don't quite know what to write in you, because I'm not really a diary type.

Massie and Kristen slept over on yesterday. It may sound kiddish, but Friday Night Sleepovers have been a ritual ever since fifth grade. The ritual broke for a while back in freshmen year, when Judi was trying to relocate me to LA to make things easier, but apparently things didn't go over to well. Massie maxed out her credit card, Kristen got her first B - ever - and in general, things were chaos.

I moved back immediately, and as soon as I stepped foot in Westchester, Massie told me: "I don't care if Jude Law asks you out on a date or if Connor Foley serenades you with roses. We're never spending Friday nights without each other. Okay?" And I nodded and we hugged and we've never missed a Friday since then.

Normally we would watch movies and gush about boys and clothes like regular teenagers do, but for some reason, we only talked about one thing yesterday: the Letters to Briarwood project.

Kristen literally showed up at my door with a pan of brownies in her hands, and said, "I hate my Briarwood penpal."

Then, there was the tell tale sound of Massie's Range Rover pulling up, and soon, we could hear her Louboutin's strutting up my front porch before her voice went, "I want to buy an active volcano so I can throw Mr. Miller in, followed by my Briarwood partner, followed by broken glass." Except she said it in French because she's currently shunning English and everything related to it. I had to get Kristen to translate.

And that was pretty much how our whole night's conversation went.

Well, I like my penfriend. I think he's amusing, and he doesn't know who I am. Having a little anonymity can be nice, sometimes.

Maybe it's only me.

x,  
Claire

* * *

_State of Union  
_

**IN**

Safety  
Security  
Well-being  
Sanitation  
French

**OUT**

Letters  
Danger  
Rape whistles  
Briarwood**  
**English (in general)

* * *

**Recipe for Chocolate Chip Cookies:**

Ingredients:

- 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour  
- 1 teaspoon baking soda  
- 1 teaspoon salt  
- 1 cup butter, softened  
- 3/4 cup granulated sugar  
- 3/4 cup packed brown sugar  
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract  
- 2 large eggs  
- 1 package of semi-sweet chocolate chips_  
- HATE. LOTS AND LOTS OF HATE._

Directions:

1. PREHEAT oven to 375 degrees ← _hot enough to burn Kemp Hurley's face. And his PILE OF CRAP letter._

2. COMBINE flour, baking soda and salt in small bowl

3. BEAT ← _like Mr. Miller obviously had been as a child, because why else would he assign such a terrible assignment for English?_ butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar and vanilla in large mixer bowl

4. ADD eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition; gradually beat in flour mixture

5. DROP ← _as your English grade undoubtedly will by the end of the semester, as you are so NOT participating in this Letters to Briarwood project because it SUCKS_ onto cookie sheet by tablespoons

6. BAKE for 10 minutes, or until golden brown

7. COOL for two minutes, then enjoy ← _enjoy? How can I enjoy anything right now, Recipe? I don't think you're quite understanding the horror of this situation. Kemp Hurley is my BRIARWOOD PENPAL. You don't understand? WELL, let me lay it out for you: Over summer, I went to the Hamptons (as per usual.) Kemp was the lifeguard (don't comment on the cliché, please) at the beach by our summer home, along with his cousin, Landon.  
_

_ANYWAY, Massie was still trying to get over Cam, and she's ALWAYS had this great eye for finding cute boys, and she INSISTED that we talk to them, so we did. Long story short, Kemp and I got along REALLY REALLY WELL. And I thought I was - get this - FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM. It must've been the summer heat or something! So, I ended up giving him something I COULD NEVER GET BACK._

_The next morning, there was only a note that said he needed to get back to California (which is where he CLAIMED he was FROM) for SCHOOL. Now, Recipe, riddle me this: IF KEMP HURLEY IS FROM CALIFORNIA, WHAT IS HE DOING AT BRIARWOOD? THE LAST TIME I CHECKED, BRIARWOOD WAS NOT IN CALIFORNIA! IT'S IN NEW YORK!_

_And you're telling me to ENJOY these cookies? You're going in the trash, Recipe, along with your stupid cookies which I wasted twenty minutes of my life on.  
_

_On second thought, I could also chuck these at Kemp Hurley's house. While simultaneously BURNING IT DOWN._

_

* * *

_a/n: it took me a while to come up with the recipe thing. is it okay? is it lame? please tell me. [:_  
_


	6. month 1: claire and derrick

**i changed kemp and kristen's story line so you might want to read that.**

**

* * *

**

Dear Derrick,

Well, in regards to your question, my Daddy is dead. Stabbed by Mommy who caught him having an affair with his secretary, who later shot Mommy then herself, leaving their bodies to get salvaged by our housekeeper. All while Baby Brother sat, watched, and cried for a bottle.

Their livers are currently floating around the black market, so no, I do not get to school by way of Daddy's limo. I drive a '63 Mustang, if you'd really like to know. It's white with black stripes and I love it more than the hairdresser who dyes my hair fuchsia every month even if I'm the only person who can drive it without breaking anything.

I'm disappointed about your reaction to my offer. I thought you would've been a great asset to my start-up business, but I guess not.

Mr. Miller has suggested that we use _imagery_ in our letters to convey _what type of setting_ we like to _write letters in_. Yes, he's actually saying it like that, with the emphasis and everything. And he's also walking towards me right now, so I hope you don't mind if I start conveying the imagery of my English class.

To my left is my friend Massie, who is scribbling furiously onto her lavender notebook paper. Mr. Miller is walking by her, and is leaning over to see what she is writing, even if he claimed that he would read no letters, only send them and mark points for participation. Now, he is telling her that he'd rather not see Octavian-Country Day students using profanities in their letters to Briarwood Students, for it may give us a bad reputation.

Massie is ignoring him. He has walked away.

To my right is my other friend, Kristen. She is reading soccer rankings on her phone, and is completely disinterested in the lined piece of binder paper I lended her. I think this is the first time in history that Massie has ever done more school work than Kristen.

Wow.

x,  
Claire

* * *

**Claire,**

This letter was just as confusing as the last.

Is your family really dead? How did they die? Sorry, but I'm not buying your black market story. Livers are like hotcakes, they would be sold by now. Is your hair really pink? (Note: I had to look up what color fuchsia was. Why do girls always complicate colors? Pink is pink is pink.) What about your friends, are they real? Not to make you sound crazy or anything.

I really don't get you, and I almost didn't reply to this letter, except my English grade can't take a hit like that. Maybe, if you're just fucking around or something, you give me some kind of sign so I don't feel like a fool all the time? My buddy Josh Hotz, he gets letters that are like, three words long (and written on purple paper...maybe he's writing to your friend Massie?) and he's gotten full credit so far (only A he's ever had.) So we can do something like that.

I'm sorry for making assumptions about your means of travel. Me? I take the bus. To and from school, and also to get around the city. Is that the "Briarwood Lifestyle" you were referring to in your last letter?

**Derrick**

**

* * *

**Dear Derrick,

If you're wondering why this paper is covered in flour, cocoa powder, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla extract, baking soda and some milk way down in the corner, I should let you know that I'm currently baking a cake with Kristen. Note that by "I'm baking" I actually mean "Kristen is baking, and I'm mixing purple food coloring into the frosting".

It's Massie's birthday next week, and purple is her favorite color. If you couldn't tell.

What's your favorite color?

Oh wow, Derrick, you caught me! You're right, my family's innards aren't really in the black market. They aren't even really dead. Baby Brother is actually a fourteen year-old little twerp who plays too much football, and Mommy is a PR manager with hair the size of Jupiter. I'm not lying about Daddy, though. He really did have an affair with his secretary. Which lead to a divorce, which lead to him moving to Australia, which lead to a whopping 15,000 dollars per month in child support and alimony.

He never calls - I hate him sometimes. He tries to make up for screwing up bad by sending me all these presents that I don't want or deserve.

I think the cake is ready to be frosted.

x,  
Claire

PS. I asked Massie if I could see her letters and she got all defensive about it and wouldn't let me see. Does Josh have that kind of effect on people?

* * *

**Claire,**

I'm sorry. About your dad. I didn't mean to offend you or anything, or to bring up any bad memories or anything.

I don't know if this offers any condolence, but my mom has night schooling six days a week and works full time as a waitress at this diner down by the mall. I barely ever see her. My dad passed two years ago. So then it was just my sister and me, until she left for college before dropping out and moving into an apartment with her boyfriend.

Was the cake delicious? You're not one of those girls who counts calories, are you? Your friend Kristen sounds like she really knows what she's doing. Although she could do with being a little neater; my fingers are now sticky from holding your batter-covered letter. What if it attracts ants? And the ants will attract ant eaters and who knows? I might be deathly allergic to anteaters.

Have I told you it's really hard trying to keep up with you? You didn't say anything about what I said, about the three word long letters and everything.

Well, gotta jet, soccer practice is in ten minutes.

**Derrick**

P.S. My favorite color is green.

* * *

Dear Derrick,

Are you sure your fingers are sticky from the cake batter? I know what boys do, you know, just because Octavian Country Day is an all-girl's private school doesn't mean I don't know about the basic necessities of the Y chromosome.

I'm just joking, Derrick. You see? I told you that I was joking. Isn't that what you wanted?

Green? How very interesting. Do you want to see what my AP Psych textbook says about people who like the color green?

"People who like the color green are usually athletic. They have a higher level of curiosity compared to those who like, say, blue, or yellow. They like being on time, and often get confused if one does not specify what one is trying to say. They are great listeners, and doubt everything they cannot prove. Green lovers are also deathly allergic to anteaters."

That was a joke, Derrick. You should be able to tell it's a joke because it's too specific to be in a psychology textbook, which is aimed at a larger group of people. Do you get it? I'm being funny. Here's what my Psych textbook actually says about people who like green:

"Green is calming, the color of fresh beginnings and new life. Studies show that the color green increases well being, calmness and restful emotions. Those who love the color green are often affectionate, loyal and frank. Green lovers are also aware of what others think of them and consider their reputation very important. If green is your favorite color, chances are you're emotional, caring, and aware of those around you."

Endearing.

x,  
Claire

* * *

**sorry, sorry, sorry for the lack of...substance? the REAL claire/derrick action comes in later on, once the plot gets going and everything. next chapter is massie and josh [: i think they're my new favorite ship. really. so maybe in a review you know you want to leave, you'd recommend some amazing mosh stories? that would be very much appreciated.****  
**


	7. month 1: massie and josh

**dearXdarling: **thanks for your review! [: the title comes from a vampire weekend song, it's a really good song and you should check it out. really.

* * *

_Josh,_

Fuck you.

_Sincerely,  
Massie (:_

_

* * *

_**Massie -**

You're going to have to hold up on the insults for a minute, because I have something to ask you. A favor, actually, a big one. I'm not sure if you'll do it because you obviously don't like me, but just think, I could be an angel in disguise. I could be a distributor of karma. What if you refused this offer, and all of the sudden, you were poor?

Could you live with no money, Princess?

Yes, so now that I have your attention; I need you to make sure that Mr. Peterson, the chem teacher at our school, is absent two weeks from Tuesday. I would ensure this myself but sadly, I have soccer practice and videogames to play. I am willing to accept any reason for his absence short of murder, mainly because I'm pretty sure Peterson has two kids and a dog.

I will be keeping the reasons for my need of his absence confidential.

Thanks for your help in advance, Massie.

**Josh**

**

* * *

**_Josh,_

I had three questions for you but I read them aloud to my pug, Bean, who understood not one word of it. I concluded that the questions were therefore too hard for you to answer, seeing how even a dog couldn't comprehend them_, _and decided to dumb it down a little bit.

1. Why, my dear, dear Josh, would I do this for you? I doubt you are an angel in disguise because, to be frank, an angel, or anything clean for that matter, wouldn't last four seconds at your run down trailer park excuse for a school.

2. How thick-headed do you think I am? No more thick-headed than you are, hopefully. I know why you'd want your teacher to be gone two weeks from Tuesday - you have a test on that day, don't you? Or maybe you're serving a detention that you want to get out of?

3. How do you think, if I even wanted to, I would accomplish this task that you've set for me? Am I supposed to take your high expectations of me as a compliment? Because I've been more flattered by oak trees and grasshoppers than I ever will be by a Briarwood Boy.

Just in case your singular brain cell still couldn't understand those questions, I'll shorten it, just for you:

NO.

Have fun being a failure in life, Josh!

_Sincerely,  
Massie (:_

_

* * *

_**Massie -**

Ouch, Mass. Ouch ouch ouch. Every word that I read is a knife to my huge, throbbing...heart. Have you ever considered taking up kickboxing to release this inner anger? Perhaps sewing? Anything besides taking it out on strangers that are only asking you simple, simple favors.

Why would you do this for me? I dunno. I sensed a kindred spirit in you when you wrote me your very first letter. I remember it like it was just last week - oh wait, it was. That's weird. I guess time flies when you're saving the world. Trust me, Mass, I have a really good reason on my Mr. Peterson can't be at school two weeks from Tuesday - and no, it is not for something as petty as _tests_ or _detention._ I think you have to realize that not everybody does everything for themselves.

But you know what, Massie Block?

I expected this. You are only a private school girl, after all, and I can't believe I thought so high of you. You aren't a kindred spirit at all. You aren't even a spirit of any kind. You are a soulless, cold-hearted, higher-than-thou princess. You have probably done nothing in your life - ever. You're right - I'll admit it. My life probably hasn't been like yours. When I screw up, Daddy can't bribe people to wipe my record clean.

You're just too used to _not_ helping people and only helping yourself, Massie, and I get that. I just really hoped that maybe you would be different from the other Octavian-Country Day girls, someone who could break out of their little bubble to help a poor fellow like me.

But you're not.

**Josh**

**

* * *

**_Josh,_

I think you've made your point.

_Sincerely,  
Massie_

_

* * *

_**Massie -**

Wait, Mass. This again? Really? I didn't mean to insult you bad, I just...I wanted to make you realize the kind of person you are. I'm sorry, Massie. Look, you didn't even include that smiley face after your name. I don't know you very well and I don't like you very much but no smiley face, Mass? C'mon, I'm just a lowly Briarwood boy, remember? You don't care about what I say.

It's now Tuesday, and I'm walking into chemistry and Mr. Peterson there with his horn-rimmed glasses and slouching posture. You were right, you know. I needed to get out of a detention, and he was the detention teacher. So maybe we're both a little selfish.

I'm still seriously sorry for the last letter I sent. I was laying it on pretty thick.

Massie, you're going to write back, right? Because I really need this grade to keep my GPA up so I can stay on the soccer team. Have I ever told you I'm a little bit psychic? Well, okay, I have a bit of the sixth sense and right now I'm seeing you reading this letter and putting it through your state-of-the-art shredder and not writing back.

That's cool, Massie.

It was nice getting to know you.

**Josh**

**

* * *

**

**Massie!**

You are the most gorgeous person I've ever met. You're a goddess, a Greek goddess. A light follows you wherever you go and angels sing down whenever you laugh and your hair bounces like a shampoo commercial; let me repeat this: you are beautiful.

Beautiful, I say.

Because guess what, Massie? It's after school. Yes, it's after school, and how can I be writing this to you when we're not allowed to do anything in detention? It's not my amazing stealth powers, no, but YOU. YOUR AMAZING STEALTH POWERS. Massie, you are a pretty, pretty, pretty girl and you deserve to be put on a pedestal and worshipped daily. I am making an I HEART MASSIE shirt.

Sorry. I'm getting a bit off topic.

What I'm trying to say is Mr. Peterson was in school during chem class and he seemed perfectly fine and my heart was sinking because I swear I swear I thought you were going to pull some trick out of your designer hat but no, he was there and I spent the rest of the day dreading this detention.

3:01, right after the bell has rung, I go to his room and prepare to suffer, and I see this sign on his door: DETENTION HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY POSTPONED. In big, block letters. The room is dark. My heart fills with helium and floats up, up, up, and a smile stretches across my face and I think of you.

You are the most perfect girl in the world.

I take back everything I said. You are philanthropic. You are a kindred spirit. I was lying when I said I was an angel in disguise because I see who the true angel is here: You. Massie Block, you need to meet me at the altar, or maybe in a skeevy hotel room, so I can show you my thanks. I'm making you a fan page on Facebook.

You're flawless.

**Josh**

**

* * *

**eugh. i'm taking too much from "year of secret assignments" again. but really, i didn't know what else to do ]: as per usual, i jumped into this story without really thinking about anything. xD ah well. it'll change later on - i swear! review anyway?

happy holidays!

-ana


	8. month 1: kristen and kemp

_Kemp,_

I AM WRITING THIS TO YOU BECAUSE I HAVE TO. IF I DID NOT HAVE TO, I WOULD NOT WRITE THIS TO YOU. WHY? BECAUSE, KEMP. YOU ARE A BIG, FAT, JERK, AND I AM TRYING TO KEEP COMMUNICATIONS WITH YOU TO A MINIMUM FOR FEAR OF THE FOLLOWING: LOSS OF BRAIN CELLS, LOWERING OF IQ, DECREASE OF PERSONAL HYGIENE, AND CHLAMYDIA.

_**GOOD BYE.**_

_Kristen_

* * *

**Kristen,**

Is it because I called you Kris? I really didn't mean it. It was a joke, Kristen - ever heard of one those?

This is uncanny, isn't it? I mean, out of all the schools in Westchester, and out of all the students in those schools, we got partnered up for this letter exchange thing. Have you ever heard of a little thing called fate? Destiny? Kismet? I like the last one. Has a ring to it.

But you haven't answered my question; what's been up with you? Do you still play soccer? Did your sunburn go away? Did you find another hot lifeguard to hook up with? Actually, I don't think the last one is possible considering it's winter.

The bell just rang, so I better go.

**Later,**  
**Kemp**

* * *

_Kemp,_

YOU SUCK.

YOU SUCK.

YOU SUCK.

YOU SUCK.

_Kristen_

PS. YES I STILL PLAY SOCCER AND I PLAY IT BETTER THAN YOU, YES MY SUNBURN WENT AWAY CONSIDERING IT'S BEEN SIX MONTHS SINCE I'VE BEEN ON THE BEACH, AND NO I HAVEN'T FOUND ANOTHER LIFEGUARD BECAUSE GUESS WHAT? I'VE REALIZED THAT LIFEGUARDS ARE LOSERS WHO CLAIM THEY LIVE IN CALIFORNIA WHEN THEY REALLY DON'T.

PPS. AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'HOT.'

* * *

**Kristen,**

Calm down, Gregory. Okay. So now I know why you hate me. And I can explain - I really can. You see, I _did _live in California. Santa Barbara, look it up. But last summer, we moved to New York. Why did we move to New York?

Well, to be one hundred percent honest, Landon and I got into a little bit of trouble back on the sunny West coast. Nothing big. Some vandalism. Petty theft. Trespassing. Not quite juvie material. We were ordered 100 hours of community service. Soon after, my parents and aunt decided to move back to New York, where they grew up, because they felt like we would shape up or whatever. That's when Landon and I signed up for lifeguarding the rich and the famous. It counted towards the 100 hours and we could see socialites in their bikinis. Win-win. Okay? I'm not a bad guy at all, so can you please stop yelling at me, or trying to make it seem like you're yelling at me through capital letters and red Sharpie.

Although I'm very happy to see your neurosis has not been cured.

**Later,  
Kemp**

* * *

_Kemp,_

Oh, GREAT. Just FANTASTIC. You aren't a BAD GUY AT ALL, you just STOLE, VANDALIZED, and TRESPASSED. I am so FREAKING ECSTATIC TO HEAR THAT, KEMP. You are just SUCH A SAINT. SUCH A SAINT. SUCH. A. FREAKING. SAINT. Why don't they just call you ST. KEMP HURLEY? You should get a CHURCH in your name and they'll have a STATUE just for YOU.

Really, though, KEMP (AND I WRITE THAT NAME WITH CONTEMPT), IS THERE ANYTHING YOU DIDN'T LIE ABOUT? YOU PUT UP A GOOD FAÇADE, BUT NOW I KNOW BETTER.

REALLY.

HAVE YOU PARTICIPATED IN DOG FIGHTING?

HAVE YOU GOTTEN ANY GIRLS PREGNANT?

HAVE YOU EVER DEALT DRUGS?

HAVE YOU EVER TRIED DRUGS?

IS YOUR NAME KEMP HURLEY?

IF YOU ANSWERED YES TO ANY OF THESE QUESTIONS, KINDLY NEVER MESSAGE ME EVER AGAIN.

_Kristen_

PS. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NEUROSIS?

PPS. AND ALSO, YOU'RE A JERK.

* * *

oh hey, do you remember me? yeah, i'm that shit writer who can't update anything. except now. the next chapter is almost done, as is the next chapter for "this fire is out of control". i swear i didn't die or anything. :D

review? sorry about the lackluster chapter. but i kind of really like kristen, so i dunno, hopefully you do too :)


	9. intermission ii

Dear Diary,

Can I tell you about the dream I had?

There's a circus. And there's a ringmaster. And there's a bear. I'm the bear. Clairebear, get it? Anyway, the ringmaster is telling me to do a backflip. Except, I can't do the backflip, because I'm a bear, not that I'd be able to do a backflip anyway, but as a bear I'm especially inflexible. So the ringmaster starts yelling at me, and so does the crowd, and all the clowns are sneering, and I feel bad, because I never asked to be a bear in the circus, and then I wake up.

Pretty weird, huh?

I'm sorry, Diary, I know you're not a dream journal, but I thought that was interesting to note down, something that Judi would want me to write, because she came over the other day, and said that if I do end up going crazy, she could publish the diary so that I could make money even if I were in rehab or something. Oh, Judi, always thinking.

You know, Diary...I don't actually like calling you Diary. It's incredibly trite, isn't it? I think I'll name you something, so that when I write to you, it doesn't seem so impersonal. There are lots of girls out there who would write 'Dear Diary', that would get incredibly boring, wouldn't it? I think I'll name you Durian. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

Dear Durian, today was a good. Kristen wasn't paying attention in any of her classes, which was terrible, because now who else can I copy notes from?

Dear Durian, I don't know why my friends don't like their Briarwood penfriends. Mine is sweet.

Dear Durian, Massie is speaking English again, and left school early the other day. I wanted to go with her, but she said she had something important to do alone, so unfortunately, I had to stay. I asked her what she had to do at our last sleepover, but she just grinned and didn't say anything.

Dear Durian, I'm tired. Goodnight.

x,  
Claire

* * *

_State of the Union_

**IN**  
English  
Flooding science classrooms  
Kindred spirits**  
**Writing letters**  
**

**OUT  
**Serving detentions  
French  
Assuming  
Being who people think you are**  
**

* * *

**Recipe for Brownies**:

Ingredients

- 7 ounces unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped  
- 3/4 cup butter  
- 1/4 cup water  
- 1 cup granulated sugar  
- 3/4 cup packed brown sugar  
- 2 eggs  
- 1 teaspoon vanilla  
- 1-1/3 cups all-purpose flour  
- Unsweetened cocoa powder and/or powdered sugar  
- _Confusion and butterflies_

Directions

1. PREHEAT oven to 350 degrees ←_There are just some things in life that I don't understand, Recipe. Why do I have to preheat the oven to 350 degrees? What's so bad about 351, or 349? Will something bad happen if I set the oven to 360 instead of 350? What if I don't like the number 350, Recipe. What, you think I'm overthinking it?_

_I don't know. Because apparently even the most straightforward things confuse me._

_Take today, for example. I'm walking out of soccer practice, tying my hair up because it's wet because I showered because that's what I do, you know? It's a routine thing. I'm thinking about volunteering at the senior's center. As I'm walking out and talking to my friend Skye, I see a boy leaning against the wall of the building I've just exited out of. That's not uncommon, of course, I mean we go to an all-girl's school but a lot of the girls here have boyfriends anyway, the uncommon thing is that this boy just so happens to be Kemp Hurley!_

_I think you remember him from when I was making cookies, yes?_

_Skye says bye and I'm left standing there looking like a fool, staring at Kemp. He tilts his head and against my better judgement, I walk over to him. "What?" I ask him, hoping he doesn't waste my time and hoping against hope that he does. _

_"Get on," he says, and he points somewhere behind me. I look behind me. A motorcycle sits there._

_It only goes downhill from there.  
_

2. LIGHTLY grease a 9-inch square by 2-inch deep baking pan; set aside.

3. IN a medium saucepan, combine chocolate, butter, and the water; cook and stir over low heat until chocolate is melted. Transfer to a large bowl.

_It's crazy, right? Writing this down and everything. In my recipe book. It's ridiculous! Goodness. But...I need to write this down somehow, right? Record it for future reference. It's really like Kemp is a plant and I'm studying it over the course of time to see how it reacts to sugar water, soda water, and normal water. _

_So it's not weird, right?_

_I'm not neurotic, right?_

_Anyway, so, Skye all of the sudden needs to "run errands for my mother so Kristen, why don't you take a ride with your friend here?" (quote by HER) and I'm thinking, OH MY GOD WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS and Kemp gives me this look and Skye gives me this look and my cheeks get all warm and I reluctantly - RELUCTANTLY - follow Kemp and as soon Skye is out of sight I say to Kemp, "BYE." and then turn to leave except he grabs my arm._

4. ADD granulated sugar and brown sugar to chocolate mixture; beat with an electric mixer on low to medium speed until combined←_SOMEHOW, I'm honestly not sure how, I find myself on the BACK of the MOTORCYCLE __with KEMP__  
_

5. ADD eggs and vanilla; beat on medium speed for 2 minutes←_A few minutes later, we were on the top of this grassy hill, and I was freaking out, OBVIOUSLY, because hello? Nobody can hear my screams on top of a grassy hill? Except Kemp, being the ASSHOLE that he is, kept telling me to CALM DOWN, he wasn't going to HURT me, when he DID. BECAUSE DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID, RECIPE? I'LL TELL YOU WHAT HE DID. He whipped out this GIGANTIC CAMERA and took a PICTURE of me. With FLASH! I couldn't see for at least seven seconds!_. Add flour. Beat on low speed until combined.

6. SPREAD batter in prepared pan.←_But THEN. He tried to make it ALRIGHT. He said, "It's part of my Photography class, Kris, stop acting like I'm going to murder you." And then he took ANOTHER picture! And then he said, "We have to take a series of natural shots. I could take a picture of tree or something, but you're more photogenic." And then he took FOUR MORE!_

7. BAKE for 25 to 30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near center comes out clean.←_I mean, in retrospect, it seems kind of ridiculous, especially since he drove me home right after (and laughed at me when I fell off the motorcycle, WHATEVER), but if you had been in my situation, Recipe, you probably would've reacted the same. Really.  
_

8. COOL ←_Ironic you'd say that, Recipe, because I think I have a head cold now_ in pan on a wire rack. Cut into bars. Sprinkle with cocoa powder and/or powdered sugar.

_I'm not overreacting. I swear._

* * *

**i felt bad about the six-month gap. so i finished this chapter and now i'm updating again. the things i do for you guys, really. :] review?  
**

**-ana  
**


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